Chapter 7
Nicholas whistled "Cabaret" while he prepared what he would need at night.
"Are you auditioning for a Broadway show?" Carolyn shot at him.
He shrugged. Her sarcasm couldn't touch him today. Now when the felt the power return to him.
The world was a toy for him to play with.
"How long it will take you to get ready?" she asked again.
"You think that you will be able to contact the ghost of that woman?"
"I am not even going to try. I created the illusion of a ghost. Enough to get under Barnabas' skin and sour the deal...Now, where did I leave my coat?"
"In Uncle Roger's room." Carolyn clenched her fists "I told you to keep away from it, didn't I?"
"What difference it makes? He's not here?"
"And you love using the master bedroom, don't you? You think that you can fool me?"
She was near explosion now, Nicholas sensed. Should have known better than to go there.
"I am sorry" he cringed. He had to. Seeing him cringe always made her happy.
"Well," she smiled "soon you won't be able to. I am going to get him back."
Harry was hedging, Barnabas sensed. For some reason he wouldn't say what the price was.
"You know that I can't stall Davenport forever. If we don't reach an agreement soon you can kiss goodbye to him and his money."
"I know that. It is...that I have trouble selling it to the tribe. Somehow they got the idea that they are going to get their land back."
"It cannot be done."
"I know that."
"Look, I can understand you wanting to put the screws on us..."
"After all, you have earned it. And don't tell me that crock about your not being responsible for the sins of your ancestors. You are quite willing to inherit the money. Why not the responsibility?"
"Spare me the history lesson" Barnabas smiled sadly "but even if there were no reparations attached, you'd still ask for a higher price."
"Isn't that the American Way?"
"Maybe, but you must be careful not to ask for more than we can afford. I've been thinking something. You could open your own store in the center. I saw the baskets you weave. the same kind of work can be used to make chair parts of clothes hampers. Things that are useful, not just nice souvenirs. Same as for the woodworking...
"Only problem is Old Munsungan."
"Old Munsungan?"
Well, it had to be out. Harry shrugged and continued.
"You know Khomeini?"
"In Iran? Of course." Barnabas shook his head remembering the images on TV.
"Old Munsungan is our local version. He's trying to get hold of the tribe, away from me."
"So I am in the middle of a power struggle?"
"Yes. And when I say I cannot sell an idea to my people, I am not raising the price for the Hell of it."
Barnabas considered the situation.
"Isn't there anything, apart from money, that I could deliver to make the situation easier?"
"No...wait...there is something. Stop Haskell."
"Stop Haskell?"
"He's been invading Indian territory too often lately. And when we try to get him to leave, he starts with heavy racists slurs. He tries to pick up fights that way."
"Joe Haskell?"
"The same one. Look, I know that he got out of the loony bin on a technicality. My people are losing their patience with him. If you want your waterfall, either get him to calm down, or get him locked up again."
Nicholas led Joe into the woods.
"Do we have to?" Joe wasn't happy about the midnight stroll. God only knew what you could meet at night in those woods.
"Yes. We need that soil for what we are going to do."
"And you need me?"
"Somebody has to keep watch. What's the matter, don't you want the money?"
"Yeah...but..." Joe felt Sam Evans' spirit tugging at him. "I have something else to do."
"Paint over Sam Evans' old canvases?
"How did you know?"
"The same way I know what happened where we are going. What got into you? Became artistic all of a sudden?"
"It wasn't me. It was Sam..."
"Hearing voices, eh? Careful with that. You would end up back in Wyncliffe that way."
"But it is Sam Evans! He cannot paint himself, so he has me do it!"
Nicholas shrugged "I doubt that you could convince anyone of that."
Old Munsungan found his way into the woods. It wasn't hard. He had known the woods like the back of his hand since he was a child.
And tonight something pulled him to that particular spot.
Redwolf's mockery followed him. "You do not listen to the spirits, old man. You just listen to yourself, and no matter what you say, we are not getting our land back."
But Redwolf did not believe in the spirits. He didn't say it aloud, but for him, trying to listen to the spirits was just a waste of time.
He would prove Redwolf wrong. As soon as he received a sign, he would prove Redwolf wrong.
Maybe tonight he would receive that sign.
Send Joe Haskell back to Wyncliffe? Barnabas felt chills just thinking about it. He had brought too much bad luck to Joe, already.
To sell him out for a waterfall...
Anyway, it was not possible. No way that you could call somebody insane for being a racist. After all, Indian baiting had been an accepted outdoor sport for too long.
He had have a talk with Joe, nevertheless.
He realized that he was walking by Angelique's house. There was light inside.
Angelique and Frank...Maybe he could get Frank's advice.
Angelique was in her nightgown, brushing her hair, when he came in.
"Don't you ever knock?' she asked, feigning anger.
"I'm sorry."
"It is all right. Why did you come? Iris threw you out?"
"No. I came to ask for a favor."
"What kind of a favor? Angelique closed her robe, but not too carefully.
"I have to ask Frank for advice."
"Frank and I broke up, didn't you know?"
"You did?" He should not be here, then, he realized.
"He is fun, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing like it was between us."
Barnabas backed away from her. How did he get into these situations?
"You and I are not meant for bread-and-butter relationships. We need more." she opened her robe.
"There is something to be said for bread-and -butter relationships. At least they don't drive you to drink."
And before she could answer, he disappeared.
Joe Haskell saw the old man coming up the road.
Whatever he was, he shouldn't interrupt Nicholas, that much he knew.
Was the man an Indian? He seemed to be. Well, he was paid to harass Indians...
'Hey you!" he shouted to the old man. "What are you doing here?"
Old Munsungan lifted his face towards that harsh voice.
"Are you deaf? Go back to your reservation, you naked savage! This is white man's land! Or are you too stupid to understand? "Joe grabbed Munsungan by his clothes. "Get out of here before I kick you out, you painted monkey!"
Deeper in the woods, Nicholas could hear Joe scuffling with somebody. Whoever it was, Joe should keep him away until he was done.
He placed the mud figurine he had just fashioned on top of the photograph he had taken from the mini-stage. Then he lighted a cigarette and used it to blow smoke over the them.
Slowly the smoke began covering the figurine. It grew as Nicholas kept smoking. It now enveloped the figurine completely. Its shape began defining itself. It stood upright and began elongating.
Joe had just thrown Munsungan to the ground.
"Well, you old lizard? Are you getting our or not?" Joe nudged him with his foot.
Old Munsungan tried to get up. He tried to control his rage...he had to think of the sign...he could not lose his sign.
Something floated in front of them. Something white...It was tall and glided through the trees as if they were not there.
It moved in front of Joe and faced him.
An Indian face twisted in pain and hatred.
Joe screamed and ran, leaving Old Munsungan there.
Old Munsungan looked at the figure. It had rescued him. And the face was Indian..
Silently, Old Munsungan worshipped it.
